Flooded Shores
by thoughtsofanonymous
Summary: In the midst of a torrential hurricane, Killian hears word that Emma and their daughter have been in a car accident.


_I went to pick up Lizzie from my parents' house. I didn't make anything special for dinner tonight, but there are leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry. - E_

Killian read the taped note Emma had left over the counter in the kitchen. Having just walked in the door from work, he was still drenched in rainwater; his long black coat dripped a trail along the hardwood floor.

He shrugged off the coat and tossed it over the two bronze hooks jutting out from the wall. His dark jeans were water-logged black. His simple button down white collar shirt clung to his wet undershirt, drawing a subtle outline of his abs through the fabric.

After kicking off his harbor master boots, Killian made his way down the dimly lit hall towards their bedroom. It took him no longer than a minute to peel off the rain-soaked work attire and redress into something warm and dry.

He fell onto the plush couch in their living room, letting the knots in his back muscles from the day's physical labors relax under the sinking cushion. Granted it had been a few years since he last Captained the Roger for an extended period of time, his body ached as if it were finally recognizing his true age. He pinched the bridge of his nose while letting out a breathy groan.

There wasn't any sense eating leftovers until Emma returned home with their daughter. Elizabeth had spent the day mostly with her grandmother, Snow, so she was sure to have been spoiled with a bountiful dinner. He and Emma, on the other hand, could use some time alone to eat.

He understood the necessity for Emma spending long hours at the station especially with the chaos that the hurricane has caused. The number of displaced residents was growing by the hour and Emma took it upon herself to oversee their temporary living arrangements. Granny took in as many people as she could without there being a safety hazard, though it seemed one Bed & Breakfast wouldn't suffice to hold the town over. The storm had relentlessly pelted the small town of Storybrooke for two days now. Most of the harbor where he worked had been shredded and degraded into broken wooden boards littering the flooded shore. All of the ships were excessively damaged with no chance at repairs until the rain subsided. Even with the storm continuing to rage on, he had spent most of his day trying to salvage the Roger, which was still in harms way of sinking in the shallow harbor.

Killian shut his eyes and allowed his exhaustion to carry him into a light sleep, expecting to be awakened by the return of his daughter and his Savior.

* * *

The shrill ringing of Emma's cell phone awoke Killian from what felt like more than a light nap. The power had gone out in the apartment, setting a chilling darkness around Killian as he shuffled to get up and answer her phone.

 **[Storybrooke Medical Center]**

Killian tapped the green answer key without hesitation, already guessing the call to either be from David or the less appealing Whale. "Emma's not home right now. She's gone to-"

"Jones." David cut him off with a shuddering voice. "I've been trying to reach you for the past half hour." Killian took a quick glance at the phone screen: 11:54pm. It had been over an hour since Emma left to retrieve their daughter.

Killian felt an uneasy nervousness twist in his gut. "Steady on Dave, what's happening?"

"It's Emma... and Elizabeth. There's been an accident: a tripped rollover collision. I'm downstairs in the police cruiser. Get down here now."

 _Emma and Elizabeth... car accident... Emma... Elizabeth... accident... hospital._

* * *

"Where are they?!" He stormed through the automatic doors leading into the hospital. Mary Margaret stood up from her chair in the waiting room, pink-eyed with a strangling grip around a rolled magazine. David followed at Killian's heels the best he could, though was unable to restrain the former pirate from belligerently marching through the _Do Not Enter_ doors.

"Wait!" David broke out in a jog after him, "Killian, stop. We can't go in there."

"Try and stop me." He slammed on the push bars to enter the emergency care unit. Doctors and nurses were shuffling up and down the halls, accommodating to a number of patients that had been brought in over the past hour due to the dangers of the storm. Killian didn't waste time asking for assistance; he speedily paced by each room, peered through the doors in search for either of his girls, and kept moving.

David caught up to him just as Killian rounded the corner. "Wait," he grabbed his shoulder. "You need to give the doctors some time. They're working on them as we speak."

" _Working on them_?" Killian sneered with a furrowed brow, a hinting edge of agony cracked his voice.

"It wasn't a simple bumper-to-bumper collision. The other driver was heavily intoxicated and driving way too fast for the road conditions. Emma's bug was hit so hard that it rolled several times before colliding into a telephone pole. The accident took out half the town's power."

Killian glared at him, finally stopping to let the gravity of his reality settle in. He swallowed with a nervous, quivering frown. "What are you telling me, David?"

"I'm telling you to let the doctors help them. It won't do you any good to see them as they are right now."

"But they are alive?"

David shuffled the weight of his feet. His eyes softened in pain, "They were critical injuries, Killian. It's," he paused when the curve of his frown trembled, "It's not looking too good for either of them at this point." Killian could see the fear lurking within David's gaze, the same fear that plagued him with anxiety over his own daughter.

Killian eyes darkened with realization. He gaped at David silently for another moment before lowering his gaze to the white polished floor tiles. "And what of the man responsible?"

"He didn't make it out alive," David frowned solemnly. "He died at impact."

Killian was alive with far too much turmoil: anger, resentment, fear, agony, doubt, and anxiety. He felt overwhelmed in an instant. The taste of bile pooled in his mouth as the notion of his wife and daughter's death made him sick to his very core.

And for what? _A dead, drunken wanker that had overestimated his prowess in motor_ _skills_.

Killian reverted to anger in an instant. He aggressively shrugged off the hand David had laid over his shoulder and stormed off in the opposite direction, no longer in search of Emma or his five year old daughter, but rather just an escape. People were crowding him in all directions, filling the personal space he right now needed to be empty. He was on the verge of snapping, digging his hook into the next jugular that stepped too close.

 _He needed space. He needed quiet._

 _No, he needed Emma._

A swell of agony ate at his insides. Killian felt the burning sting well in his eyes as he turned the corner and sought refuge in an open handicapped bathroom. He slammed the door shut and fastened the push lock over the metal handle. The faucet squeaked on and soon scathed his calloused hand in burning hot water. Steam fogged the overhead mirror, clouding his reflection so he might not see the weakness that appeared after all his walls of security had been quite literally stripped of its foundation.

They were his _everything_ \- his second chance at redemption, his identity above that of a pirate, his newfound home, his family, his happy ending.

Killian turned away from the shrouded silhouette in the mirror. He brought his forearm up to his mouth and bit down hard. The pained whimper he had been holding back finally slipped through his teeth. A single, hot tear leaked out from the crevice of his eye and dribbled into the lines of his frown to give him the salty taste of his own fears. He couldn't lose them.

 _"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"_

 _He could hear her sing-song voice ring in his memories. Her bright smile was complimented by her radiating long golden curls bouncing over her white dress and bright blue eyes that reflected the August sunlight. He could still recall her light, scampering footsteps as she ran up the dock towards the anchored Roger, hands eagerly reaching out for him to lift her in his arms. She squealed in laughter when he swung her up in the air, only to pull her back tightly in a long-awaited embrace."I missed you." He could still recall her muffled voice as she pressed her face into his shirt. "Don't ever go away again."_

 _Her light voice echoed in his mind, sounding more and more like a whisper on a broken record player._

Killian turned back and gripped the cool-edged corners of the hospital white sink. His breathing began to accelerate to match the racing stream of hot water gushing out from the loud knocks sounded on the bathroom door.

 _"No, Darling, I promise I won't ever leave you."_

Killian glared wide-eyed at the mirror, fixated with the reflection of an unrecognizable man bearing all signs of weakness and fear gawking back. His heart rate quickened at the racket of three more louder knocks.

 _"Mummy missed you, too. I can tell. She isn't as happy when you're gone."_

"Killian," Mary Margaret called out to him through the door. "Please open the door."

He swallowed back a painful lump of emotion that had balled at the base of this throat. The burn of the hot water failed to soothe the stabbing aches he felt pulling in his chest.

He could hear Emma's voice in his head, spouting words he knew only his Swan could say to him to sate his nerves. He reverted to the memory of her unique tidings; her reassuring almost amused smile she would always use to match his stubborn brooding scowl, her gentle touch along the stubble of his jaw that would relax the strains of his anxiety, that easygoing shrug of her shoulders she would always do to downplay any nervous fit he would fall under. No, no, no, no, _no._

He can't lose her. He can't lose _either of them_.

No.

A cloud of white fogged his vision while heat spread over his temples. Killian collapsed, unconscious, just as the hospital security arrived to unlock the door.

* * *

A shallow beeping sounded to the right of Killian's ear. He had yet to open his eyes, though judging by the firm feel of the mattress beneath him, he guessed the staff must have offered a bed for him to rest. A coating of sweat trickled down from his temples. A shooting throb ached from his forehead as he stirred from his uncomfortable position.

Suddenly a light weight pressed over his side on all fours. It crawled a little ways closer and paused. He felt two skinny arms stretch over his chest, then little hands bunching the sides of his shirt for leverage to help climb up on top of his chest.

Killian stirred again, this time opening his eyes to meet two familiar youthful sea blue eyes staring back beneath long lashes. "Elizabeth," her name escaped his lips in an awed whisper.

Her nervous frown was replaced with a smile. Her cheeks were scathed in a plethora of dark bruisings. Asides from two smaller cuts that traced up from her right eyebrow and upper lip, she appeared fine.

It was only when he reached up to smother her in a loving embrace that she let out a soft hum of protest. He followed her gaze down to her left side, which he could see through the cut of her children's hospital gown was thoroughly bandaged up. "I was cut by a piece of window," she mumbled quietly. "The Mr. Frankenstein-Man says I'm going to have a scar." Her face alighted in youthful excitement, "It'll look like a pirate scar just like yours, Daddy."

He reached up to push back a knotted lock of golden hair behind her ear, letting his hand rest on the side of her cheek. His thumb brushed over the shapes and shadows of blue and purples that littered his little daughter's complexion. She leaned into his touch, smiling back with her wide blue eyes before lowering down to lie in his protective hold.

Careful not to exert much pressure on her stitched wounds, Killian enveloped her with his steady arms before leaning up to brush a kiss over her swelled temple. "You'll be alright, darling," he said more so for himself. He felt her nod under his chin, her fingers twisting and bunching his loose undershirt.

"Mummy will be too," she pointed her finger to the next bed over.

Pulling his gaze off from his daughter, Killian looked up to find Emma sleeping soundly in the nearest hospital bed. A slow, consistent heart rate echoed out from the machine she was connected to. An oxygen tube stretched up into her nose, while the rest of her face was covered in a similar pattern of bruisings to Elizabeth. The left side of her head was bandaged up to conceal the swelling of her battered temple.

He turned back to his daughter, whose cheek rested over his chest so that she could look over at Emma as well. "They told you Mum would be alright?"

"Yeah, she'll be okay," Henry answered for Elizabeth. He stood up from one of the guest chairs across the room. Snow was awkwardly slouching in the chair beside him, fast asleep. Henry's chestnut brown hair was disheveled. He wore an easy fitting pair of sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, which suggested he wasn't given much time to change into anything stylish. Although it was evidently morning from the flat white light beaming through the rain-coated hospital window, it appeared Henry had been awake for a few hours.

"You doing alright, lad?"

"Regina didn't tell me about the accident until after they both came out of surgery. That said, it still hasn't been easy just sitting here waiting for one of you to wake up." He nodded towards Elizabeth, "She's been awake for almost an hour now, and if I remember what Whale said correctly, you _weren't_ supposed to leave your bed."

Elizabeth stubbornly latched onto her father, "I don't want to sleep alone."

"You don't have to." Killian chuckled in a soft murmur while brushing his finger through her matted curls.

Henry smiled easily and leaned back down onto the chair. "The storm is calming down, finally. Gramps was here earlier, but had to go and make sure the rest of Storybrooke is still somewhat in one piece. He said he'd bring back breakfast if the bakery wasn't so flooded."

Killian nodded before turning back to Emma. Despite the buzz of the equipment of disarray of tubes that were attached to her arms, she rested comfortably. Her lips were parted just barely, and even from where he lied, he could see the small movements beneath her eyelids. She seemed so at peace in whatever dream she was in, as if it were just another morning of her sleeping in late.

Elizabeth tanged her fingers through the buttons of his shirt. "Aren't you the least bit tired?" He muttered down to his daughter, earning a faint nod in response. He chuckled before reaching out for the cheap knit throw to cover the two of them. Elizabeth slowly succumbed to sleep in his arms.

Killian, however, could not bring himself to go back to sleep. He stayed up with Henry so that the both of them would be there in the case that Emma awoke. It wasn't until four hours later – an order of breakfast from the cafeteria, two Sudoku puzzles and a movie – that Emma opened her eyes to a crowded room of her anxiously waiting family members.


End file.
